


Sate

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-17 00:16:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10582437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Meludir reports Legolas’ progress to Thranduil.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It must be the middle of the night when he hears a knock on the door of his personal chambers, directly across from his grand, four-poster bed, the leafy canopy of which cuts out most of the starlight that otherwise seeps into his room. Thranduil’s always stirred easily—a helpful skill in times of battle—and is fully awake before a second knock comes. It’s respectfully quiet and waits before delivering another, giving Thranduil a chance to stretch and release a tired yawn, hand reaching for the wall panel above his nightstand. He tugs the tassel that hangs from it, and the bell beyond the door rings, signaling that a servant may enter. Thranduil doesn’t bother to rise to see who it is.

He hears the door open, soft footsteps pad inside, and the closure that follows. He lounges right where he is while a young elf wanders to the side of his bed, then lays a hand atop the covers and hesitates. 

Thranduil gives a short nod against his pillow, and the elf smiles sweetly. The moonlight plays off his honey hair, but he’s quickly under Thranduil’s canopy, awash in darkness, as he burrows beneath Thranduil’s sheets. He sidles up to Thranduil’s body, eyes stopping to trace the long line of Thranduil’s bare arm atop the blankets—he doesn’t bother sleeping in robes. Meludir wears only the thinnest silk, loosely tied about his waist, and Thranduil jerks the nearest sleeve down one shoulder just for a peak of skin. It’ll make the conversation more fun, and perhaps whatever follows, if Thranduil so decides to wake enough to play. 

Meludir murmurs quietly, “Good evening, my king,” though they’re well into the night. “Please forgive my intrusion without invitation, but you told me to report to you the moment Prince Legolas made use of me.” Thranduil lifts one brow, and Meludir confirms, “Prince Legolas just took me, my king.”

Given nearly a decade earlier, Thranduil had almost forgotten the command. It strikes him as rather late, but then, Legolas could well have noticed his father’s own interest in a certain young archer, and perhaps he wished to cover his own ground. There’s also the possibility that Legolas took no particular interest in Meludir at all, but that seems unlikely, given how delectable and eager to serve Meludir is. Thranduil knows few in his realm that haven’t taken Meludir at one point or another, though his whims, of course, take precedent over them all. Meludir indeed looks quite pleased to be back in his king’s bed, after a week out on hunt with Legolas and several others of the guard. 

When Meludir gives no more detail, Thranduil drawls, “In what ways?”

“My mouth, my king,” Meludir announces, and when Thranduil presses his thumb against Meludir’s bottom’s lip, he can certainly tell that they’ve become slightly swollen with use, particularly red and plump. Thranduil knows all too well how easy it is to sink inside Meludir’s tight throat and thrust forward in abandon. Meludir seems to think a moment, then lists, “He kissed me in the courtyard north of the stables, and then bid me to kneel, and then he unlaced himself and pressed inside me. He was true and still, and I did the ‘work,’ so to speak, and swallowed him when he spent himself. He prepared me afterwards with his fingers and oil, and then he took me from behind against a tree.”

Thranduil waits a minute to be sure that Meludir is finished, then mulls it over and snorts at the public setting. He’d hoped he’d taught his heir better than that—such delights, while to be indulged when earned, are best taken in private, at least for little princes. He makes a mental note to instruct Meludir so afterwards, though he knows that, as devoted and loyal as Meludir is, he isn’t likely to be forceful of thought during the throes of passion. Instead, Thranduil asks, “How was he?”

Meludir smiles all the wider, dimpling his creamy cheeks. “Many things, my king. Measured, yet wild, and graceful. He was kind to me, and even made sure of my own pleasure, though I made it clear that my place was to serve him. He is very talented... though not yet so extraordinarily so as his father.”

Thranduil can’t help the smirk that stretches across his lips. He supposes that’s just what he wanted to hear. Moving to pet idly back through Meludir’s loose hair, Thranduil muses, “Will you continue to service him?”

“If he asks it of me, I would be honoured to oblige... unless, of course, my king would prefer otherwise.”

Thranduil does think on it. He has many elves for this and could certainly spare one, and he imagines that if Legolas did know of Thranduil’s affections, he would be quite displeased. But then Meludir nuzzles sweetly into Thranduil’s palm, and it’s difficult to imagine casting him aside; he’s such a pure, obedient treat, and both ends of him are exquisitely soft, tight, and warm. He looks at Thranduil with naturally wide eyes, clearly keen on remaining in the close service of his king. 

But Legolas should be just as grand a treasure. Someday, he will be. For now, he at least deserves the proper tools with which to train. Thranduil decides, “No, I think not; please him as you will.” Then he gives Meludir’s chin a little tug, pulling him forward, and they kiss across Thranduil’s pillow, Thranduil’s tongue dominating Meludir’s in a heartbeat. 

Meludir mewls and leans into it, pressing hotly against Thranduil’s body, thin thighs already squirming between Thranduil’s. When Thranduil pulls back, Meludir mewls in distress. 

“You have done well,” Thranduil decides, which earns him a glowing smile. Meludir looks as though he’s never been given a greater compliment. For a final order, Thranduil concludes, “You will continue to provide Legolas any practice or release that he should need, and you will report again to me his moods and improvement. He is your highest priority beneath me, and you will drop any other the moment your prince should wish for you. You will do your utmost to satisfy him.”

Meludir nods emphatically. 

Thranduil adds, “Dismissed.”

At once, Meludir’s expression falls. But he’s well behaved nonetheless, and he detangles himself from Thranduil’s body, lifting the blankets again to climb out of them. As soon as he’s on his feet, Thranduil asks with a tinge of amusement, “Did my son ask to meet with you tonight?”

“No, my king,” Meludir answers through his frown.

Thranduil considers teasing him, asking why then he would presume to leave when he’s only been dismissed from conversation. But the night is long, and Thranduil isn’t yet sure he wishes to follow through on such games. So he merely pats the bed beside him whilst allowing another yawn.

Meludir is bright and jubilant again, hurriedly slinking back beneath the covers. He returns to Thranduil’s side, now refraining from any untoward touching, and merely snuggles cutely into Thranduil’s space. Thranduil tosses an arm around him and drifts peacefully off again.


End file.
